


A Helmetfull of Anything is Too Much

by totallybusy



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Baseball, Baseball, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10129052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallybusy/pseuds/totallybusy
Summary: What do you do with a helmet full of ice cream?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for EarlGreyTea89 a couple years ago, only just got around to posting it. I don't watch baseball but I did happen to see this commercial:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JSNsLrA3tw

Everyone was staring at the Batter. He was sitting at the end of the table, bent over a helmet full of ice cream. He wore a forlorn expression as he slowly spooned soft serve up from the hard hat into his mouth.

Eames was positively entranced. It was him, Arthur Levine, his hero, if he was going to have anyone as a hero, his favorite, the man who had gotten him into this foolish American past time. This player had won him hundreds of bets through his amazing swing, made the watching of otherwise interminable games an actual joy, and he was sitting right there at the end of the table, eating ice cream out of his helmet.

Life had never been this kind before. It was rude to approach celebrities, Eames embraced this as a fact, especially while said celebrities were eating, but this was different! It had to be! Arthur was consuming soft serve ice cream out a helmet in the middle of the ESPN cafeteria. Such extravagant behavior was a clear invitation to comment. Eames was one to know.

Eames mustered. He stood, straightened his paisley tie, set his shoulders and swaggered over to where Arthur was sitting. Confidence in this venture was key, so he sat down without hurry or hesitation. He settled with his back to the wall and Arthur his most charming smile.

Arthur looked up, his dark eyes cold beneath his curling fringe.

“Evening,” Eames said. “I couldn’t help but notice, that’s quite a meal you have.”

“It was waiting for me.” Arthur’s voice was rough with emotion. Eames started to see cracks in a facade he had not realized was there.

“I mentioned in an interview,” Arthur continued, “how much I like soft serve. I said I could eat a helmet’s worth. I was joking. They said I need to be more personable in interviews so I was trying to be funny. It was just meant to be an expression. But when I came in today, and I asked for some ice cream the serving ladies started laughing and they pulled out…” Arthur trailed off and just looked down at his ice cream.

Eames was speechless. He did in fact remember the interview. Arthur had been flushed with victory after the game, sweaty and smiling, his hair spiraling into delectable curls. There had even been dimples. Of course the cafe ladies had wanted to do something special for such a sweet face.

Clearing his throat, Eames shifted. “You could just throw it out you know. No one could expect you to finish all this on your own. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“But that would be wasteful!” Eames refused to be charmed that now Arthur was whining. “This must have taken a lot of effort; you can’t hurry this much soft serve! And it wasn’t melty when I got it, and it isn’t even hard, it must have been done right before I came in! It even has sprinkles! Look!”

Eames gave the dish a dutiful look. It did in fact have sprinkles. He looked back at Arthur, who was staring at him, wide eyed and flushed. This was a desperate man. The man who never flinched in the face of a hurtling missile was paling in the face of desert.

There was only one thing for it.

Eames picked up his spoon, scooped up a decent amount of ice cream and ate it. He looked at Arthur, whose mouth was now gaping. 

Swallowing, Eames said, “I suppose I’ll just have to share it with you.”

As he took another bite and mulled it around his mouth, Arthur thawed and began to smile.

“Yeah, I guess that’ll work.” He picked up his spoon and tucked back into the soft serve.

Eames grinned, and thought, ‘Home run’.


End file.
